Worth The Wait
by aheartstruecolours
Summary: "waiting is painful. forgetting is painful. but not knowing which to do is the worst kind of suffering."


**disclaimer : Alice in Wonderland is property of Lewis Carroll**  
**disclaimer : the quote used in the summary is property of Paulo Coehlo**

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* * *

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_I'm undecided about you again_

The Cheshire Cat sat on the edge of the waterfall in the Vale of Tears, as he so often had as of late. Some of the lushness had returned to his coat, and the smile on his face was less cruel and more sad, but for the most part, he was the same as he had been when Alice returned to Wonderland.

The other inhabitants of the world had learned not to come near him when he was like this. For the most part, the Cat could be counted on for advice and help in a pinch, but when he came to the Vale of Tears and sat beneath the statue of his mistress, he had made it very clear he was not to be disturbed.

What he thought about was his own business, and no one inquired, because for the most part they already knew.

After all, a world always longs for its creator, and if some inhabitants moreso than others, and for perhaps a different reason, what does it matter?

The fits always passed, and after a time he would return to his tree and to giving cockeyed directions and shadowy advice.

But right now the Cat needed to be left alone.

_It mightn't be right that you're not here._

She doesn't love me.

She never did, and this is not a surprise, for I had realized it long ago.

That is the reason why I sit here, beneath the statue of her as she daydreams, as she so often does.

She will never love me for this simple reason - she has not returned.

One year is a long time to wait for someone, but it is not a hopeless amount of time. Neither is two. But by the end of three, and after four, one begins to find that hope, once burning so brightly, has faded, leaving a vast emptiness.

And for the most part, this is bearable. It has happened before, after all - not this strongly, of course, but it is still the same.

But there is a part that is not bearable - this sitting and thinking beneath her shadow, as it were. This realization that I will never see my mistress and pupil and desire again.

But I sit here still, quiet and calm but for the twitching of my tail and the turmoil within me.

_It's double-sided because I ruined it all  
But also saved myself  
By never believing you, dear  
__Everything good I deem too good to be true  
Everything else is just a bore  
Everything I have to look forward to  
Has a pretty painful and very imposing before I have too been playing with fifty-two cards  
Just cause I play so far from my vest  
Whatever I've got, I've got no reason to guard  
What could I do but spend my best?_

* * *

I do not love him.

I sit and talk with him, this Charles Dodgson, and I am pleased by his imagination. To most, he is just a quiet, shy mathematician who works at an Oxford college. He is a small presence and he stutters, but he alone of all the people I met has my own oddness of mind. Not madness, but just a quiet sense for curiousness.

And he loves me.

I have only let him kiss me once, to see what it felt like. It was a pleasant enough experience - passionate on his part and detached on mine - but not enough so that I have let him do it again.

I don't pretend. I think he knows I don't care for him. I could never directly tell it to his face - that's just asking to destroy the only close friend I've had since I got out of Rutledge's.

He knows my history, but for Wonderland, and he always looks at me as though he wants to heal me. That, of course, is impossible, but it's a nice sentiment, at the very least.

Beneath the quiet exterior is a passionate writer. He writes mostly nonsense stories or vaguely religious ones with morals - not the boring sort, of course, but odd ones, with strange characters and bizarre conversations. They make me laugh, and at the same time they hurt me a little, because they remind me so much of Wonderland.

He also likes children - little girls, mostly. He says they are more willing to open up than little boys, and have more spirit. I agree, but when I see him with a cluster of his young friends and he looks up at me from across the room with longing in his eyes, my heart breaks a little.

As I've said, I do not love him.

But I fear that I must be content, for four years is a long time to hold out hope to return to a child's land, and four years is too long for anyone to wait for you. So my head tells me, at least. But then, I have never really trusted my head, because it was what landed me in an asylum for seven years and such the reason that everyone whispers about me at parties like this.

Charles sends me an apologetic look. He dislikes these parties as much as I do, this I know, but neither of us can get out of it - me because my aunt wishes me to be well-to-do and won't give up on introducing me to everyone influential in the entire country, and him because his friends invite him and wouldn't understand his reason for preferring to stay home (he writes under a penname).

I shrug at him, and go to sit on the edge of the room, as I always do in these situations. Charles often asks me to dance, and I oblige him, but other than that I am glad not to have to socialize. People know and mark me as different, and the peace of having no obligations for a while is soothing.

However , tonight is not like that. My mind stirs, and this isn't a surprise.

My aunt tells me that I should accept his proposal and be done with it. After all, with all my queerness, who else would accept me?

But I do not love him.

When I told her this, though, she just laughed at me. "Since when has that ever mattered?" she asked me, as though she'd never heard anything more absurd in her life.

I give as much respect to my aunt as she deserves, but it was at times like this when she (and the rest of a society that thought suchlike) extremely annoyed me.

But I don't. And I can't live a lie. I just wish that my reasonings would make as much sense to others as they do to me.

But they won't, of course. If I ever told him, Charles would think I had invented a story, to please him.

And even if he did believe me on that point, he would never understand that I am in love with someone else, since that someone else is a cat.

_And after waiting, fighting patiently on my knees  
All the other stuff tired itself out first, not me_

_

* * *

_

The Cheshire Cat rose from his place on the waterfall and began making his way back to Wonderland Woods. That was his place in the order of thing s- the crossroads between the Mad Hatter's and the March Hare's, where everyone passed from time to time.

Tail twitching, he climbed his tree and perched in the fork, awaiting a traveler to confuse.

After a while, the last person he expected came by - the Mad Hatter himself. He was heading to the March Hare's. Their friendship hadn't been damaged by the warping of Wonderland; the Mad Hatter only dimly remembered his machinations, and the March Hare and Dormouse were simply too thick to realize that he'd been the one to cause them all the harm.

"Why do you wait for her?" he asked, pausing beneath the Cat's tree.

"I'm sure I haven't the faintest what you're talking about," he replied, shifting slightly so he was a little more away from the Hatter.

"Don't be stupid. I know why you go off to the Vale. Everyone does."

_That's the problem with living here_, he thought, his tail downright thrashing now. _Everyone knows everyone and privacy is non-existent._

"I don't know."

"Don't lie, Cheshire," said the Hatter. His eyes were shrewd under the brim of his hat. "It doesn't suit you."

"Am I really supposed to care what you think?" growled Cheshire.

"You don't care what anyone thinks," the Hatter responded. "You never have. Only your own thoughts matter to you, and now they're a bit of a burden, aren't they."

The Cheshire Cat curled up even tighter, letting only the tip of his tail reveal that he was still upset. "Perhaps."

"Why do you wait for her?" he repeated.

"That is my own business."

"All the rest of us have accepted that she isn't coming back," the Hatter continued. "Why do you deny it?"

"Because I do not wish to believe it," said the Cat, opening an eye and glaring at the Hatter with it.

The Hatter sighed. "Fine. Have your longings and have your dreams. I suppose it is your business, to believe what you like."

The Cat bared a fang at him but said nothing.

The Mad Hatter set off for his tea party, and the Cheshire Cat stretched out on a branch. It was amazing how much his grin looked like a scowl.

_And in its wake appeared the touch and call of a different breed  
One who's said to get me wise and got me there and then got me  
And what a thing to know what could be instead_

_

* * *

_

Alice sighed and shifted in her seat. Soon Charles was going to ask her to dance, and she would have to say yes, because it would be expected of her. And undoubtedly he would take her off to a quieter part of the room and ask her if she'd decided on an answer yet.

And it was getting to the point where Alice was beginning to consider saying yes. What else was she supposed to do, anyway? She was already getting old enough to be considered a spinster, and she was certainly not going to get offers from anyone else she knew.

Living a lie, she thought, was only a small price to pay for a little happiness and peace. At the very least, she would have memories of her dear Cat to keep her warm at night, when Charles didn't suffice...

She shivered a little. Charles was not a bad man to be married to, but the idea of being his dutiful wife in all respects was not a desirable one.

_I'm a foolish creature, to brood so. You've got one choice, and that's that. Wonderland's out of your reach now, so stop it._

Alice rested her head in her hands, resisting the urge to cry.

_Oh what a blessed curse to see_

* * *

I leap from my tree perch to the ground, stalking off. I do not wish to give advice today, nor do I wish to return to brooding. Rather, I let my paws do the leading, taking me to nowhere.

As I walk, I think. It's better to have dark thoughts while wandering than to have dark thoughts while sitting still. The motion makes it a little more bearable.

Why I pine for the girl is understandable. Alice created me, as she did all Wonderland. I died for her. I would do so again. I'm her fool.

Just how much so? I'm in love with her.

This makes me pause, because I have never truly told myself this. I have told myself that she doesn't love me, and that I wish for her return, but I have never admitted the true reason for my distress.

It's a bitter prospect, but what else was I expecting?

_Took the agenda from its place on my bed  
Made a merry paramour of me_

_

* * *

_Those who saw the Cheshire Cat after that would have been surprised - which is a rare thing in a place so strange as Wonderland. For he was not grinning as he always did, but frowning, his golden eyes lost in thought. Those who saw him were also wise enough to get out of hisway.

So the Cat was alone when he wandered into the grass labyrinth, and alone when the portal appeared before him. And it was the desire to not be alone that led him to walk through it.

_Oh sailor why'd you do it  
What'd you do that for  
Given the eyes to view it  
As it goes by the boards_

"Care to dance?" said a voice.

Alice looked up, meeting golden eyes. She knew who it was instantly - there was no missing the smirk, the eyes, the bearing. And she was surprised to feel herself cross with him as she stood and took the offered arm.

"You've come too late, you know," she said, as he put one hand with hers and placed the other on her waist. "I'm engaged."

"Don't lie, kitten," Cheshire replied. "It's not at all polite."

"Since when have I ever been polite?"

"True," he agreed. "But one would think you'd have picked up some gentility among such," his voice was a sneer, "company."

"Don't mock me, Cat," said Alice.

"Then don't lie to me."

"All right," Alice said, as the dance sped up, "I'm not engaged. But I'm close. Charles proposed and I have every intention of saying yes."

"But you do not love him."

"How would you know?" Alice demanded, looking away as the dance ended and heading back to her seat.

"I can see it in your eyes," Cheshire responded, sitting beside her. Alice still would not meet his eyes. "I can hear it in your voice." He leaned over a little closer and Alice flinched slightly as he said, "I can feel it when you touch me."

"I don't," Alice admitted. "But when has that ever mattered?"

"It does now," he answered, and his voice was so earnest that Alice looked at him now. He took her hands in his. "Alice. Please don't act like this. You're hiding."

"I would go back if I could," Alice snapped. "Don't you think that for a moment! But I can't."

Cheshire just stared at her.

"Do you know how much I've despaired to leave this life behind? I'm not wanted here. I've missed my world, missed my friends... missed you. But it's been too long. Magic and wonder don't last forever, Cheshire, in case you haven't noticed. And sometimes one has to... has to settle for what one has."

"I've never known you to give up."

"I didn't want to," Alice replied, jerking her hands out of his grip and turning away. "But four years is a long time to wait for something to happen."

"But _I_ waited," said Cheshire, tilting her head back toward him. "And something _did_ happen."

Alice stared at him for a moment. "Please," she murmured, "take me out of here."

Cheshire pulled her to her feet and they walked out of the room.

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**reviews are appreciated.**  
**/aheartstruecolours.**

**author notes :**  
**- this was previously featured on an older account.**


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